


Made to Order

by sqwarren



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Couch Sex, Dante likes pizza, F/M, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Oral Sex, Quickies, What Was I Thinking?, this was a mistake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqwarren/pseuds/sqwarren
Summary: This shouldn't exist, but it does. My apologies.For his favorite holiday, Dante has a special Halloween request for you: to dress up as one of his favorite things. You sure hope he likes what you've conjured up, otherwise you'll soon be feeling quite silly.
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Made to Order

You emerged from your room cautiously, anticipation, and perhaps a bead of sweat, tracing a cold trail down your spine. The halls of the Devil May Cry offices were quieter than usual, with the only sounds being a low-volume song from the dilapidated jukebox on the ground floor; the tap tap of your shoes on the worn wooden floors sounded unnaturally loud, heightening your anxiety.

 _Hells. Why did I agree to this?_ This was not the first time the thought had occurred to you, nor would it be the last. You pushed forward along a path worn into the ill-maintained floors, allowing the scuffed path to guide your steps, occasional creaks emitting from your shiny, patent leather boots.

You loved those things. Not walking in them, gods, no - they pinched and pulled at your skin with every step - no, you loved to wear them to drive the carnal desires of your demihuman boyfriend out of this world.

_Dante. That’s why I agreed to this._ Yes, this is why you decided on this course of action. The white-haired, painfully attractive half-demon had asked for only one thing for what he claimed to be his favorite holiday; just one thing, a mix of pleading and desire in his eyes:

_“For Halloween, I want you to dress as one of my favorite things.”_

You agreed instantly, before you truly understood exactly what it was you were agreeing to. The moment the assent left your lips and his face lit up with excitement, there was no way you could ask for him to elaborate. Part pride, and part shame prevented you from asking for further detail.

As you approached the stairs to the ground floor, the intricate lace designs on your thigh-high stockings were tugged slightly by the velour edging on your costume. Peeking a dexterous hand out from it, you flicked the offending edge away from your leg, taking a brief moment to inspect for runs. This had to be perfect. The designs consisted of detailed, undulating curl patterns, trailing toward the edge of the patent leather panties, selected specifically to match your boots. Currently, those panties were hidden by your costume, but you felt it would be best to accessorize for what you hoped would come post-costume presentation.

Pausing at the top of the steps, you inhaled deeply. _This better work. This better be worth it._ Your mind wandered back to trysts of old, memories of almost overwhelming pleasure peeking from the recesses of your mind: strong, callused hands tracing every curve, every muscle, every intimate part of your waiting body, murmuring into your ear the things he was planning on doing to you… you, stiletto heel on his naked thigh, commanding him to _wait_ for his release, as you continued to firmly stroke his shaft… the both of you, panting with effort and need, moving in rhythmic unison, taking your pleasure from one another after a long day of work…

Almost reluctantly, you slammed your mental doors closed on the memories, despite the pleasant warmth blooming between your legs. _Focus,_ you thought to yourself. _Eyes on the prize, as Dante would say._

Stepping forward once again, you resumed the staccato rhythm of footfalls down the curving staircase, worn similarly to the floor above. It was somewhat difficult to see as you descended the steps; the costume's unusual hem made it difficult to see your feet. Taking your steps with care, your feet eventually settled upon the landing, and you heard Dante's voice from around the corner.

"Hey, is that my favorite lady?"

You steeled yourself, adjusting your costume unnecessarily. "Just a passing reveler on Hallow's Eve, come to give a trick or a treat!"

A chuckle. "Is that so? Do I get to pick which one I get, o mysterious reveler?"

"Close your eyes," you say dramatically, easing into the game. "I will decide which you deserve once I see your costume."

Again, that chuckle. "Your wish is my command, and closed they are. I'm ready for ya."

Stepping around the corner, he comes into view. Taking in the sight of his costume, your first thought manifests: _Of course he did._

Dante reclined behind his well-worn desk, chair leaning back on two legs, sandal-clad feet perched on the desktop, crossed at the ankle. A white toga covered most of his body, and was belted at the waist with an elaborately braided cord, the ends of which hung off to his side at his hip. Atop his messy hair sat a circlet of plastic olive leaves, some pieces of the headpiece intertwined with his silvered locks. As promised, his eyes were closed, the ghost of a smile on his lips, elbows up, hands behind his head, as if it was all the most natural thing in the world. You couldn't help but notice that the toga left very little to the imagination. 

"With a costume like that," you say, eyes tracing the contours of his exposed skin, "a treat is in order. You can open your eyes now." 

Dante's eyes opened, and a look of genuine surprise crossed his face, followed by his lips splitting into a massive, genuine grin. It is at that point that you reflect on the fact that you must be quite a sight.

Those knee-high, patent leather boots, intricately-lacy stockings, and patent leather panties were a stark contrast to the core of your outfit. The light brown velour edging of the large, triangular costume gave way to a silken white and tan canvas broken up by swatches of red. Decorating the front of the costume were felt circles attached with velcro, designed to imitate pepperoni. Your face peeked out from a hole nestled at the top near the crushed velvet 'crust', showing off a felt 'pepperoni' domino mask over your eyes. Your hands were on your hips in what you hoped was a sexy pose, despite how ridiculous you felt dressed as the thing you believed to be his favorite - 

Pizza. 

Sexy pizza.

"Ho-lee shit. You absolutely nailed it."

Swinging his feet off the desk, he stood and ambled toward you, then circled you where you stood, his eyes scanning you from top to bottom. His right hand stroked the gray stubble on his exquisitely sculpted jaw, while his left supported his elbow in a parody of a thoughtful pose. Occasionally, murmurs of "mmm" and "mmhmm" could be heard as he made his rounds.

After a few moments of this, you broke your silence. "So, you like it?"

"Like it? Babe, what did I say? You absolutely nailed it. Look at you - those legs!" He gesticulated dramatically toward them. "The toppings!" He mock-slid across the floor to stand in front of you, gesturing to the front of your costume. "Those amazing, shiny, sexy, drive-me-wild _boots_!" He punctuated each word with a jab of his finger toward the boots in question.

"I just know you, is all," you said modestly, while internally congratulating yourself on pulling it off.

Dante chuckled as he sauntered toward the squashy couch against the wall, turned, and sat. He gestured to you, lazily, as he reclined on the couch. "Cheese and pepperoni... hot and spicy, just like you. Come here and let me see if it's stuffed crust like I ordered."

Now it was your turn to chuckle. "I thought you'd never ask."

As well as you could in the awkward costume, you seductively stepped toward your half-demon lover, inserting a nice bit of hip-twitching _here_ , and a little bite of your lip just _so_. By the time you reached him, his smirk had transformed into a wide grin. You nudged his legs open with one of your own and stood between them, extending a hand to stroke at his chest, noting he was growing hard beneath his toga. His lean musculature always elicited a murmur of appreciation from you, and today was no different. In reply, he clasped your wrist and pulled you down onto the couch beside him, twisting into a kneeling position facing you. Reaching beneath your costume, he swiftly pulled the fabric monstrosity up and over your head, taking your pepperoni domino mask with it. You laughed aloud as he reached over to firmly grasp your legs, swinging them up onto the soft fabric of the broken-in couch, leaving one leg over his shoulder.

“So - about my order,” he purred, watching for your reaction as he began teasing you through the panties. “I did mention I wanted it hot, didn’t I?”

You murmured your assent as the thumb massaging your clit became more insistent. He reached a hand to your breast, pinching your nipple and massaging it between his fingers, giving each one significant attention as your breath quickened. You felt the heat grow between your legs, and knew he was getting you wet. As swiftly as the tight fabric allowed, he dragged your panties down your legs, tossing them in a random direction. Swiftly, he pulled your legs open, kissing and licking your clit, a murmur of satisfaction escaping his throat as you let out a soft moan. His fingers soon found their way inside your slick folds, dexterously finding your favorite spot as his lips and tongue tasted and teased your nub. 

"Oh, Dante, yes," you gasp as your hand moves to the top of his head, your fingers weaving into his silver locks.  
That elicited a satisfied hmmm from the devil hunter as his tongue worked more insistently at your bud, your need growing more fierce his fingers working deeply into your pussy, stroking firmly at your walls, your pleasure building at a swift cadence, gripping his hair with one hand while your other clawed at the couch. 

"Fuck me, Dante, please!"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Dante interrupted his work on your pussy to rise on to his knees and pull his toga aside, revealing his fully erect cock, stroking it with his strong hands, wetting it with the precum building at the tip as well as the slick juices from his work at your sex. Guiding his significant length into your soaking wet entrance, he slid his full length into your depths, a gasp escaping his lips and yours. He wasted no time working at your core, his solid shaft brushing against the deepest parts of you, quickly building your pleasure into an almost overwhelming need. You worked your hips against his own, his arm in your grip as he held you by the hips with one hand, the other braced against the couch, bucking against your crotch, jolts of further pleasure scorching your nerves each time he would press against your clit until you could stand it no more, your mounting pleasure bursting as your orgasm came on with a cry of his name escaping your lips, nails clawing at his arm, your pussy frantically fucking his cock. As the ripples of pleasure took your body, you heard your name ripped from his throat as he came, hard, his orgasm filling you with the warmth of his cum, the fingers of one of his hands ripping deep gashes into the couch, until the fire of your shared pleasure subsided, and he half-collapsed over you, drenched in sweat, matching your panting breath.

Slowly, you decoupled from one another. He planted a deep kiss on your lips, a firm hand on the back of your neck. You could taste the remnants of yourself on his tongue, his stubble brushing against your face.

"You know, love," he mused, letting his toga fall across his crotch once again as he flipped against the now-ruined couch. "I wasn't sure about you when we first met, but now…"  
You arched an eyebrow. "But now?" 

A trademark Dante grin crept across his face. "But now," he said, brandishing the pepperoni domino mask, "I know you really were... made to order."

A peal of laughter burst from him as a throw pillow took him in the face, your grin now matching his own.


End file.
